


Preen

by iaintafraidofnoghostbear



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Caretaking, M/M, Wing Grooming, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23280085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iaintafraidofnoghostbear/pseuds/iaintafraidofnoghostbear
Summary: Nolan's not good at asking for help.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 17
Kudos: 203
Collections: Flyers Fic Exchange 2020





	Preen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jolach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolach/gifts).

> Thanks to J for the beta. <3

Travis sighs, taking in the sight of Nolan’s wings. He knows that it’s hard, with his migraines and everything. He gets it. But Nolan not taking care of his wings has to only be making things worse. 

“Pats. Just let me. Please?” 

A shiver goes through the feathers, and - for a moment - Nolan tucks his bedraggled wings tightly against himself. Travis is sure Nolan’s going to turn him down and tell him to leave it alone, but then Nolan lets out a long breath and relaxes. His wings unfold a little, and he turns enough to briefly meet Travis’ eyes. 

“Okay,” he murmurs.

They move to the bedroom, laying out towels and grabbing a wastebasket. Travis fills a bowl with hot water and digs a stack of clean washcloths out of the closet. Nolan’s shifting awkwardly on the bed when he gets back, fidgeting even as Travis sets the bowl and washcloths on the bedside table. 

Climbing up on the bed behind Nolan, Travis reaches out with one hand, pausing just shy of touching. “Gonna touch you now, okay? Can you unfold them a little more for me?” 

Nolan nods, and his wings spread enough that Travis can start at the joints, where skin turns into downy feathers. It also bares the first of the oil glands, and Travis has to stop himself from sucking in a breath. The gland is definitely clogged, swollen and irritated-looking, and the skin immediately around it is too dry. Dipping one of the washcloths in the water, Travis holds it against the gland for a moment, trying not to press down because he knows it has to hurt. The warmth and wetness does its job, though. When he pulls it away, Travis is able to gently squeeze out the dried oil clogging it, wiping it up with the cloth and dropping it on the far side of the towels. 

Mindful of the tenderness, Travis uses his fingers to pet the gland, getting oil beading up. He swipes it carefully along the nearby skin and feathers, smoothing them down. He comes across one that is broken, close to falling out but stuck. Spreading oil along the base, he waits for a moment before closing his fingers around the shaft. 

“Gonna pull, Pats.” Nolan’s back flexes as he tenses, but Travis tugs it quickly and the feather pops free. Dropping it to the bed, Travis quickly oils the spot, smiling to himself when Nolan lets out a sigh of relief. 

Slowly but surely, Travis works through every part of Nolan’s wings the same way. The pile of broken and shed feathers grows quickly, some of them only tangled in the others while the rest have to be helped along. Travis worries that it might be too much for Nolan - their wings are sensitive, after all - but Nolan seems to be doing okay, only sighing here and there, insisting that he’s alright when Travis asks. 

Smoothing down another feather with his fingers, Travis sits back for a moment to look at his work. There’s no doubt that Nolan’s wings look better. Instead of being drably colored and terribly ruffled, they’re smooth, a rich walnut with bits of gray and black dotted in. They gleam slightly and Travis can’t help but brush his hand along one. Nolan makes a soft sound, turning his head to try and look back. 

“Lay down?” Travis says, shifting out of the way so Nolan can. It’s different being able to see his face while he works. Nolan bites his lip, eyes falling closed as Travis works. Only once does he flinch, when a particularly stubborn gland pops and sends oil squirting over Travis’ fingers. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and Travis snorts in response. 

“It’s okay. Least it didn’t get on my face.” Not that it would be terrible, to be honest. Wing oil has a scent, usually musky. Nolan’s smells almost sweet, barely noticeable if you weren’t working with it as directly as Travis is. 

Nolan shivers when Travis brushes his fingers through his feathers, trying to re-align the feathers as best he can and searching out the ones that need to be removed. His cheeks are rosy, some of the flush bleeding down into his neck. His hands rest on his stomach, moving up and down in time with his breaths. Travis has to give himself a shake when he realizes he’s staring. 

At one point, he has to go change out the water because cool just doesn’t work as well. He comes back to find Nolan running his fingers through his own wing, a soft look of wonder on his face before he lays it back down, stretching it out into the position it was in before. 

Travis does one last comb through when he’s almost done, fluffing the down beneath and picking out the little bits that come free. He feels proud, satisfied with himself. Nolan’s wings look so much better and the tension in his body from holding them so tightly against his body has melted away. When he sits up, they’re neatly folded against his back, relaxed and holding a soft sheen in the afternoon light. 

“Thanks.” The word comes out low and soft, Nolan glancing up at Travis through his lashes. Dropping the cloth he was using to wipe the oil from his fingers, Travis slowly reaches out to touch Nolan’s cheek. He cups it, thumbing the warm flush there. 

“Anytime, okay? I promise, I’ll take care of you.” It’s a loaded sentence, but Nolan nods all the same. He turns his face into Travis’ touch, closing his eyes and taking a slow breath as he nuzzles against Travis’ palm. 

Together, they clean up the mess, dumping the feathers into the wastebasket and putting the towels in the laundry. Nolan backs Travis up against the wall in the hallway, blue eyes searching his before he leans in. The kiss is soft, and all Travis can do is laugh into Nolan’s mouth when Nolan’s wings come up to wrap around them, hiding them from sight. 


End file.
